Beasts of the Field
by hogwartsformuggles
Summary: A young new adventurer has some suspicions about the popular Tom Riddle.


**Chapter 1 – Tacitus Vornüm**

The holidays had just come to an end as Tacitus Vornüm strutted to Herbology. He looked around and smirked, his nose stuck up a little higher in the air than usual on this cold, winter day. During the Christmas break, his father had received a grand promotion. He was now the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. His family was finally achieving the royalty status that their ancestors had been recognized for. That they deserved.

A typical Slytherin with fierce green eyes, tousled blonde hair, and pale skin, Tacitus even looked like royalty. Towering over the majority of his peers, his lean body caught many a glancing eye as he walked across the grounds. He felt fearless today, more than usual. His father's promotion made him swell with pride.

His thoughts were interrupted when he opened the door of the greenhouse and a garden snake slowly slithered out of it. He jumped back and glared at the snake waiting for it to glide past him, watching it slither away. The dark, slimy skin of this Slytherin mascot was all that Tacitus could see within the long wisps of grass blowing through the wind. He shuddered, his body tightening not from the cold air, but rather the thought of how unusual it was to see a garden snake on the grounds this time of year. Once it was far enough away from him, he felt his body loosen and he quickly bolted inside the class, distancing himself as much as he could from his biggest fear. His eyes were glued to the dirt-covered ground, watching his every step so nothing else would catch him off guard. He was so focused that he barely noticed when he bumped into a fellow Slytherin standing by himself.

Tacitus picked up his eyes for the first time since entering the greenhouse, stopping them on the face of his friend Antonin Dolohov. He nonchalantly brushed his hand through his hair.

"Hey Dol," he said pompously, knowing he didn't need to apologize to his closest school friend. He took his seat and silently waited for class to begin. Although Tacitus was of royal blood, he did not show off by talking relentlessly. He was a man of few words and preferred to be alone. He didn't concern himself with others friendships and acquaintances. Even though he had known Dolohov for many years they sat in a familiar silence until class begun. As class began Tacitus slowly let his mind wander away and his snake fear drifted off of his mind, for now.

When the long, drawn out class was over, both boys were itching to get out of the soil-immersed greenhouse with the screaming mandrake roots. They bolted out of the door and into the fresh air whilst avoiding conversation with any other students. As they were walking across the courtyard, Dolohov said his goodbyes and veered right towards a group of boys who seemed to be up to something. Tacitus didn't feel the need to respond back. They were positioned in a circle around one boy and looked as though they were staring in awe.

The group was now joined by Dolohov, and all of them seemed focused on the centered boy who was casually eating an apple. Normally Tacitus would not have paid any attention to random groupings, but something about that boy in the middle began to peak his interest. Tom Riddle was one of the most admired students at Hogwarts by both his peers and professors. As Head Boy of Slytherin, he was widely respected and after winning the coveted Medal for Magic Merit, he was on top of the young wizarding world. They both were seventh years, so Tacitus not only saw him most days in class, but slept in the same dorm room as him also.

While looking over at the boys, it was understandable to see how Tom obtained a group of followers based on his accomplishments, but they seemed to be constantly plotting more trouble. Their smiles had very mischievous turns plastered on their faces and their laughter seemed like more of a sneer rather than filled with happiness.

Tom was a handsome young man with chestnut brown hair and strong brown eyes. As a model student it was hard to find anything wrong with him. Tacitus could easily have fit right into this group because of how powerful his family was but he preferred the solitude. Something about that group irked him.

Tom tossed the apple aside and stood up on the tall, strong tree. All the boys applauded jeeringly as they watched transfixed, salivating over what was about to happen next. Tacitus gazed across the courtyard curiously. Tom then waved his wand, gracefully following a curved S pattern. It was almost serpentine-like. He winced in disgust and continued on towards his dormitory, looking back once more. Nothing had spouted out of the wand and Tom jumped down. The last glance Tacitus had was the group nodding in approval. Their cheers made their unquestioned allegiance clear.

Tacitus entered the dormitory, threw his book bag down, and collapsed on the bed. It was early evening and he could see the beautiful sun falling down over the horizon. A peculiar time to fall asleep, yet Tacitus drifted off into a deep slumber, not awaking to the other clamoring Slytherin boys walking in and out of the living quarters.

Tacitus awoke in the middle of the night to his stomach churning. _Right_, he thought. He had completely missed dinner. He looked around the dark room feeling around in the air for a light switch. His eyes adjusted to the darkness just enough to see that Dolohov was in bed so he decided not to switch the light on. A rare moment of humility.

He felt his way out of bed and stumbled towards the common room, hoping that his fellow house mates had brought back some leftovers from the grandiose dining hall. _It's worth a shot_. Tacitus got to the top of the stairs and suddenly heard a noise that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A sharp, whispery like sound was piercing through his ears as he stopped dead in his tracks. He cringed. The flashback of the serpent he saw that morning appeared in his head for a quick second, and immediately he felt glued to the ground. Filled with fear, he heard the crisp, high pitched sound once more and he slowly walked towards it, the sound pulling him in closer and closer, waiting at the top of the stairs.

A dark figure moved in the corner of the room next to the fire, and the glinting flame reflected off of a familiar face. Tom's. Although Tacitus knew it was him, the familiarity of his face was not comforting. Tom did not notice Tacitus and the blood curdling noise did not waver. The threatening sound was coming straight from Tom's mouth.

It was difficult to understand; like a foreign language. Tacitus twitched. It looked like he was talking to himself, but then another voice sounded similarly foreign to Tom's. This was even more suspicious because there was nobody else in the room. _Was it coming through the walls?_ He thought. Before Tom caught Tacitus he decided to not test the waters. He had more important things to do than worry about other people's weird quirks. _Tom always had that malevolent look in his eyes though_, Tacitus thought judgingly. But the fear running through his spine was ridiculous to him. _How could I be so afraid of some weird voice?_ As he retreated back into the comfort of his bed, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Tom's bed became occupied. His empty stomach would have to wait until morning.

Throughout the next few weeks, Tacitus did not think twice about the unsettling, eerie, voice and went along with his day to day lifestyle. As he went through his classes, he was settled by his confident persona that he was better than majority of the students at Hogwarts. Tacitus enjoyed school because it came easily to him, but he excelled specifically in Transfiguration; a Gryffindor class. Tacitus never held his breath to poke fun at other houses because he wanted to make it known that he was intelligent and in the most clever, prestigious house. Tacitus was proud that he was in Slytherin because it reflected the status more so than any other of the mere houses; he enjoyed basking in the distinguishable characteristics of his house. He rejoiced in the fact that he was wealthy. Nothing else could taint his character because money was the most important thing to his royal family.

On a day of treacherous and torrential wind and rain Tacitus sprinted into the Great Hall to find some relief from the storm. He saw majority of his seventh years at the table so he took his place at the table beside Dolohov. It was majority of Tom's gang and Tom was bragging about something he had done in class that day.

"That muggle girl had no sense when she answered that question." He sneered to all his friends. The boys snickered when he had said muggle so rudely. "Of course I knew the answer. It was something that any measly wizard should know. Such a taint to the race." Tacitus rolled his eyes. He looked around and realized he was the only one not laughing. _Pitiful. _He thought to himself. Even Dolohov was carelessly chuckling at something of so little importance, especially when it came to magic. He overlooked it and continued eating.

"I cannot wait until that dumb broot has his Slug Club meetings again with his fine wine and amusing gossip. At least it is in the presence of most prestigious students at Hogwarts." The boys nodded in agreement and high-fived as Dolohov shifted in his chair. Tom seemed to have disregarded Dolohov's emotions completely because he clearly wasn't invited.

Tacitus quickly tuned into the conversation because of the high caliber that these students who were invited were being described as. This concerned him a little bit because he thought he was deserving of being in this so called "Slug Club". Once he was done with his meal he rose from the table, his pride tugging at him, and quietly slipped out of the Great Hall.

Right as he walked out of the Great Hall his mind was turning with reason as to why he wasn't invited to the club. He had everything desirable that a proud wizarding family would have. His family was royal in every sense of the word. His father Makt Vornüm's past generations seized the throne in Germany by tricking Muggles with the power of magic. Centuries before this, all powerful, untamed dragons, like the Dusseldorf Darkfang and Stuttgart Sharpwing, were wreaking havoc on the civilians of Germany. The Vornüm family realized that this was their chance to seize control. By having the gift and power of magic they trained the dragons. They were looked upon as heroes for saving the cities from burning down to the ground and were deemed noble. Because of the use of magic they remained in control for over two centuries and the name Vornüm was well-respected. They were known as dragon trainers and by having the dragons under their control they held the key to power.

It wasn't until the witch hunts in Germany occurred that their reign had come to an end. The muggles had found out about the sorcery that was present within the Vornüm family and they were ran out of Germany and fled to England. They took their dragons with them and were instantly popular in England within the wizarding community. Up until now, Makt was trying to climb his way to the top and with his promotion the pride within the family name skyrocketed once again..

Shaking his head at all of this information that he had known about his family he was surprised and for once, disappointed that he wasn't recognized for being great. For once he actually doubted himself and cared what others thought.

The next morning, he walked with a little less of a strut unintentionally suppressing the peacock within when he heard someone call his name. The voice was a bit shaky but had an interested yet dubious tone.

"My boy! Tacitus! Wait!" Slughorn was clumsily chasing after Tacitus who had just now realized he must have been walking quite fast.

"Hello Professor," said Tacitus.

"Tacitus, yes," Slughorn said trying to catch his breath. "I saw in the papers recently a similar name to yours. Vornüm. Makt Vornüm. He recently became Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. Are you related to him in anyway Tacitus?"

"Yes sir, that is my father," said Tacitus, trying to play it cool.

"Oh how wonderful! My dear boy, how amazing it was to read about your rich, royal history. Dragons I believe, yes?"

"Yes sir. I grew up learning how to tame dragons. From time to time we return to Germany to see our ancestors home. The castle that we once ruled lies atop of a rocky hill next to a pristine lake."

Slughorn was just staring at Tacitus in awe, not hiding the eager smile that was developing on his face.

"Wow!" He said. "This is wonderful! My congratulations to your family. Can't wait to get to know you better! There are many admirable qualities about you son." He was not looking at Tacitus at this point and seemed like he was talking to himself.

"Thank you sir. I will." After this Slughorn seemed to be smiling to himself as he walked away. Tacitus's mood instantly changed.

The next day Tacitus received an invitation. An invitation to the Slug Club.

**Chapter 2 –What Do You Know?**

Sunlight reflected off the dusting of snow that had fallen over Hogwarts through the cold winter night. At almost exactly an hour before class started, Tacitus awoke to the same sun warming his face. But he noticed something especially unusual this morning. The bed to his left, that of Antonin Dolohov, was empty. Remembered for his pale skin and dark, matted hair, Antonin was a typical fellow Slytherin who Tacitus had studied with since they were both 2nd years. _Guess I'll see him in class later_. He thought. They normally went to breakfast in the great hall together, but he found himself heading down alone for his favorite kippers and roasted potatoes before the day. Tacitus didn't mind eating alone and people watching.

The cold morning was more than enough reason for the students to walk quickly to get to a nice warm classroom. Tacitus felt his hands starting to numb just as he entered the potions class and set his books down on his desk. Antonin was already in his seat in the middle of the room with his book already open. The dark bags under his eyes could only mean he had been up all night, presumably up to his usual no good with his gang of mischievous friends and their leader, Tom. Tacitus pulled his seat out and sat down.

"So what rules were you breaking last night, Dol?" He asked jokingly, clearly using the nickname to poke fun at Antonin's masculinity.

"Very funny, Tacitus." He replied in his usual snarky tone. "You know, not all of us need 10 hours of sleep every night to get good marks.

"Yeah but you weren't even there to wake me up with your boots thundering about the room." Replied Tacitus. Their friendship was clearly characterized by their comfort in making fun of one another.

"I never made it back upstairs last night, I was out with Voldemort and the other knights having fun scaring the 1st years while they tried to sleep."

Tacitus hated that people were calling Tom Riddle Voldemort now. He had changed his name at the beginning of the year, claiming he didn't want to be tied down to such a bland, powerless name. But the only thing stranger to Tacitus was that his pack of lackeys had decided to call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis. It was a decently clever play on the German night of pranks and mischief he had heard about growing up called Walpurgis Night. Tacitus had never partaken, rolling his eyes at the mere idea of such lowly activities.

"Why do you call him that now? Don't you think his head is big enough without feeding his ego?" He said hesitantly, not sure where Tom was sitting in class. Thankfully he was out of earshot in the back, snickering at another student whose robes had a noticeable jelly stain from breakfast.

"Voldemort is just what we call him now," never questioning his leader's decision. "I wouldn't want a simple name either if I were in his position, doesn't seem right." Tacitus was puzzled by the comment but kept from showing it on his face. By this point, Slughorn had started class up at the front of the long, crowded classroom so Tacitus didn't bother with inquiring further.

The rest of class was straightforward and boring, besides when Slughorn spoke up at the end of class in his stuffy, thick voice. "To everyone who received an invitation to the Slug Club meeting this week: please let me know if you will be able to attend. I hope everyone knows how distinguished an honor that invitation is." Tacitus smirked knowing that he didn't see dinner with the teacher as quite a high reward. But enough of his friends were going to be there so he figured he would speak up. His confident voice perked up over the shuffling of books and chairs loud enough to be heard.

"I'll be there professor." He said as he walked out the door. He was eager to get to his next class even though a Slytherin professor did not teach it. He continued down the hall with his feet shifting quickly beneath him and into the transfiguration classroom.

Up at the front of the room, the professor was writing in Latin on the chalkboard with his back turned, only showing a head of Auburn hair to the students as they started to sit down. Tacitus eyed the professor's usual candy bowl sitting on his desk, noticing it was less than half full. In the front row where the big classroom was better lit by the daylight, Tacitus took the opportunity to suck up a little right before class started.

"Good morning Professor Dumbledore." Tacitus knew brown-nosing always worked on the older teachers.

"Good morning class." Dumbledore's profoundly booming voice hushed the room of talkative students, mostly Gryffindors. Tacitus hated Gryffindors, being a 7th year Slytherin, but was so heavily enveloped in the subject that it was worth dealing with those ignorant fools. Not to mention that excelling in the class provided Tacitus an opportunity to show up his rival house. The thought of it shot a poised smile across his face.

Dumbledore dragged his heavy lavender robes across the classroom in his usual pattern of pacing while he lectured, while Tacitus kept his head down and took notes until his parchment was full. "Now class, make sure to have your conjuration assignments done by next week, and once again I am NOT responsible for what or whom you decide to practice your transfiguration skills on. Stay sharp!" The class quickly filed out for lunch period, all except for one.

"Professor, do you mind if I have a word with you?" Tacitus said eagerly with his notes crumpled slightly in his hands. He had written a couple questions down in hopes of getting a better understanding of what was discussed in class if he had the chance. "It will only take a minute."

"Sure, Tacitus, what can I help you with?" Dumbledore's pace had picked up as he gathered his supplies and erased the chalkboard. His mind was clearly occupied with other matters, and he made sure Tacitus wasn't going to take up too much of his day. "Just a minute, though. Time is everything."

"Of course, sir." Tacitus was not used to being hurried in his more affluent lifestyle back home. "In relation to Vanishment, why is there only the one spell, Evanesco, while conjuration has a multitude of incantations? Is it in relation to what specific-"

"Yes each conjuration spell caters to what you are conjuring, while making something disappear is the same every time. Anything else?" Dumbledore had interrupted him and was now walking out of the classroom and back to his office two doors down the hall. Tacitus followed him and switched topics to see if he could grab more of his attention.

"Yes sir. The natural and legal limitations of transfiguration are stricter than other -"

"I'm sorry Tacitus, I wish I could be more help to you, but I'm unfortunately preoccupied with matters not worth clouding your head with today. Is there another time that is better for you? You are one of my best students and you deserve my time more than most." Dumbledore was back at his desk, his pacing had stopped, and he had even given Tacitus the courtesy of making eye contact with him for the first time since class.

"Sure professor, we can catch up next week sometime." Tacitus had a rare moment of reservation, where he normally would have asserted himself he was now slowly backing down. His head fell, breaking contact from those piercing blue eyes, and onto the desk where he noticed a letter from the Ministry of Magic underneath some open books. He couldn't see who had signed the letter, but one sentence immediately stood out from the rest in his catching glance.

_Grindelwald must be stopped at all costs..._ It sounded important enough for Tacitus to see he was going to get nowhere with Dumbledore anytime soon. He nodded quietly and headed off to enjoy the last few minutes of lunch.

As the week came to a close and the first Slug Club dinner of the spring approached, Tacitus felt a strike of nerves overtake him. It was so unlike him, he was near disgusted by the idea of needing to impress someone, especially if Tom was there to outshine him. Tom was Slughorn's pet, or at least Slughorn thought so. The real authority was Tom leading his gang of troublemaking Slytherins to do whatever he asked. If only Dolohov wasn't so naive and saw that Tom was using him._ Could a gifted 7th year student be that influential over people?_ He pondered. He was still preparing himself to hear about Tom's academic success and accomplishments when he walked into Slughorn's office.

There were about 15 students already seated around the table with place settings and napkins in front of each, but Tacitus didn't think much on his late arrival. He never waited for others and loved the feeling he got when everyone in a room stopped and acknowledged his entrance.

"Welcome Tacitus! Take a seat old boy!" The heavy squawking of professor Slughorn was all too familiar. "To anyone who doesn't know, this is Tacitus Vornüm, if you have any questions about dragons, he is definitely the man to go to! Ha." He chuckled, thinking he was being clever. In reality, all those comments ever did was give Tacitus mindless questions to answer about how dragons smell or if he's ever ridden one. Nevertheless he always enjoyed the praise of someone whose opinion occasionally matters. That's when he noticed the star of the evening he had been so worried about was absent. Tom was probably off vandalising Hagrid's new hut or flinging sweet rolls at the house-elves in the kitchen with his 'friends'.

_How could he get away with so much and still be Slughorn's prize? _Tacitus thought to himself. _No matter, maybe I can make myself a little better known to the professor and knock Tom down a peg or two._

"Professor, I'm not just the son of a dragon tamer you know, I also have an eye for transfiguration, according to professor Dumbledore." Tacitus was not shy to brag about his hard work. His chest was puffed out and he sat so straight up in his seat as he spoke that two students gave puzzled looks as if he was going to stand. "I bet I could answer most questions anyone has about the subject."

A couple of the students at the other end of the table were chuckling lightly to each other over Tacitus' choice of an elective class taught by and for Gryffindors. He didn't care what they thought if Slughorn was impressed. But it was no use. Slughorn was already starting up a side conversation about how he once saw Tom transfigure an entire flock of seagulls into a patch of earthworms.

"You should have seen them scatter! It was marvelous, truly marvelous," Slughorn said, now loud enough for the whole room that had started listening intently to hear. At least Tom wasn't there to receive all this praise in person, or Slughorn would be oogling at him like a first year girl at the Head Boy. He went on and on all night about how he was such a model student and that we should try to be more like him. It made Tacitus quickly lose his appetite, even through the delicious looking dessert of Chocolate and Raspberry flavored ice cream with chopped nuts.

Tacitus had given up hope on Slughorn, and on Tom, which wasn't even the name most people were calling him anymore. It was either Voldemort or Riddle depending on whether you admired him or feared him. Slughorn was the only one who still called him Tom. It would be a few more weeks before there was another Slug Club meeting, but Tacitus made sure he would be there.

**Chapter 3 – Overheard in the Garden**

Slug Club meetings came and went over the coming months, and Tacitus began to grow bored of them. As nothing new was happening in his family anymore, there wasn't much for him and Slughorn to discuss. Tacitus had skipped the last two meetings and was contemplating what to do with the rest of his day as he was leaving Potions class when he was held back by Slughorn.

"It's been a while since I've seen you outside of class, Mr. Vornüm," he said in his condescending, yet peppy voice, looking down at Tacitus over his thin, gingerly blond mustache. "I hope to see you at the Slug Club tonight at eight o'clock sharp! It's just going a small dinner in my office, only a few other members will be there. I won't take no for an answer!"

Tacitus put on a small, fake smile and reluctantly said "Okay, I'll be there." He then turned and walked out the door to continue his day, now with a little less to look forward to.

Tacitus was not particularly looking forward to the Slug Club meeting tonight. It was going to be like all the other Slug Club events, just another chance for Slughorn to oogle at Tom and his greatness. He decided, though, that he had nothing better to do, and it might be funny to watch Slughorn fall prey again to Tom's oh-so-fake charm that he put on for every teacher. Everyone except Professor Dumbledore, who was too smart to be tricked by Tom.

The meeting that night was, as Tacitus had expected, nearly the same as all the others. Slughorn had only invited six of them, all seventh year Slytherins. Along with Tacitus, attending was Tom, Lestrange, Avery, Mulciber, and Nott. It was as if Slughorn was encouraging the boys to follow Tom in whatever terrible things he wanted them to do. Of course Slughorn was so enamored with Tom that he was completely oblivious to whom he really was.

They ate in Slughorn's office at a big round table and spent the whole time talking about whose father was doing this and whose uncle was doing that and how Tom would be the Minister for Magic before he turned forty. It was quite unpleasant to sit through, but the connections Slughorn had would be useful in helping Tacitus acquire a high-ranking job in the future. The loud crackling of the fire made it easier for Tacitus to zone out of the rather boring conversation.

As expected, Tom charmed his way through the meeting, duping Slughorn into telling him things students shouldn't know and praising him like he taught Merlin how to perform Magic. Slughorn was fervently drinking a bottle of aged, rich, red wine and scarfing down a box of crystalized pineapples Tom had gotten him, conveniently remembering they were Slughorn's favorite treat.

Tom was wearing a gold and black ring that he kept toying with all night. Tacitus thought he seemed very proud of it, like it was a prize that had to be seen by everyone but still protected.

Slughorn kept bringing up Ministry work and suggesting it for Tom as he always does, but every time he did, Tom would shoot it down and say he wasn't suited for it. Slughorn insisted it was clear that he came from a good wizarding family. Lestrange, Avery, Mulciber, and Nott were having a good laugh at all this, as though it was a joke that Tom would ever do something as menial as working for the Ministry. Tacitus, however, knew that if you wanted to have power, to be respected the way his family was, you have to work your way up through the Ministry. So, he did not think it was a laughable matter to turn down such great opportunities.

Soon it was eleven o'clock and Slughorn was filing the boys out of his office. Tacitus was last out of the room and noticed Tom had not left with them. The other boys did not seem lost, though, as they usually do without their unquestioned leader. Tom must have told them to go back to the common room and wait for him because they were walking very purposefully in that direction. Tacitus decided to slip back into the room and see why Tom wanted to stay after with Slughorn alone.

Tacitus was unnoticed as he slid to the back of the office and found a nice hiding space next to the fire. He had gotten rather a good at keeping quiet and observing others without being detected over the years. Tom and Slughorn were standing on the other side of the room with their backs to Tacitus, and the fire was still hissing loudly, so it was difficult to hear exactly what they were saying. Tacitus was only able to hear fragments of their conversation.

"—a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said Slughorn. Tacitus had never heard of a Horcrux, but he could tell by the way Slughorn emphasized the word "Dark" that it was right up Tom's alley.

Tacitus missed what Tom's response was but was able to catch Slughorn saying "A Horcrux is the word used for…" The fire roared up at that moment and Tacitus cursed it under his breath. Slughorn was fiddling awkwardly with something on his desk, not exactly thrilled to be having this conversation. The next thing Tacitus heard was Slughorn again saying disgustedly, "…few would want it Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

Tacitus leaned forward, knowing he couldn't actually get any closer or he'd be caught spying on them. He desperately popped his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, focusing all he could on hearing this conversation clearly. Unfortunately, the hissing, fire was doing all it could to keep him from that, constantly interrupting his eavesdropping. _How could something be worse than death? _Tacitus thought._ And why was Riddle so interested in this?_

"…committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart…do I look like a killer?..." Slughorn was starting to sound angry with both Tom and himself for getting into this discussion. Tacitus could not comprehend what Tom was planning, but it sounded seriously bad. _Maybe he was going to use these Horcrux things on people who crossed him_. Tacitus shuttered. He couldn't imagine experiencing something worse than death.

Finally, Tacitus was able to catch something Tom said. "…Horcrux be much use…Wouldn't it be better…powerfully magic number, wouldn't…"

"…But all the same, Tom…keep it quiet…People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes…Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it."

"I won't say a word, sir." Tom Riddle said those last words in a voice that, to Tacitus, sounded victorious, like he had just learned the secret to life that no other person in the world knew.

Tacitus escaped from the room before either of them turned around. As he walked briskly back to his dormitory, he thought over what he had just heard. Professor Dumbledore would've been very angry if he knew that a student was told about Horcruxes. Whatever Riddle had just learned from Slughorn seemed evil—truly, disgustingly evil.

The next few weeks went by in a blur. Tacitus could not focus at all on any of his upcoming N.E.W.T.'s. The only thing he could think about was Riddle and what Tacitus had overheard Slughorn saying to him. His N.E.W.T. scores would still be very good. He had always exceeded on his tests without studying.

It was in Tacitus's nature to stay out of things, to remain indifferent and only focus on improving his own status. Something about this felt seriously wrong, though. He did not understand why, but he somehow knew that Riddle was up to something truly horrible, something that would have repercussions for everyone, including Tacitus and his family. He resolved to keep an eye on Riddle for the last couple months of school and see if he could find out any more about what he was planning. If he could just find some evidence, he could stop Riddle for good before any real harm was done.

With one week to go before his first N.E.W.T., Tacitus had not learned anything new. Riddle had gone about his normal routine, as far as Tacitus could tell, since his conversation with Slughorn. Tacitus decided it was time that he really addressed this problem. In order to do that though, he would have to figure out what exactly a Horcrux is, so he would be able to warn people specifically what Riddle was planning to do with one.

Tacitus entered the library that evening with a signed note from Professor Merrythought, his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, allowing him to go into the Restricted Section. Of course, she thought he was using it to study for his N.E.W.T.'s, but that was unimportant. Tacitus would be perfectly fine without the book she thought he was getting. He walked, filled with purpose, straight to the Restricted Section, tossing his permission slip on the librarian's desk without even so much as glancing at him.

Looking through the parts of the Restricted Section that discussed the Dark Arts, Tacitus found a few books that, from the titles, seemed as though they should contain something about Horcruxes, but nothing was mentioned. Finally, after what felt to be hours, he came across Magick Moste Evile. Tacitus skimmed through the pages, beginning to lose hope, when, at last, his eyes landed upon the word he had been obsessing over for so long now. He nearly shouted with excitement; his leg shaking anxiously as he set the book down and fixated on the incredibly important information he was about to read.

_Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give directions_. That was it. That was all there was in the entire school on Horcruxes. Had this been what Riddle had seen, or was there some other book that held more information on Horcruxes somewhere? Tacitus barely had time think about searching for another book that might mention Horcruxes when someone passing the aisle announced their presence.

"Ahem" coughed the person politely. Tacitus, startled, closed the book abruptly. He looked up and found himself staring through half-moon spectacles into the piercing blue eyes he knew all too well. "Are you looking for something in particular, Mr. Vornüm?"

"No, sir. Just preparing for my N.E.W.T.'s next week," Tacitus replied coolly. He had always been very confident in his ability to lie and keep secrets. Professor Dumbledore, wearing his usual extravagantly ornate, purple robes, smiled at him in a friendly, yet also paternal, way.

"I would be happy to help you study right now, if you'd like?" Although Dumbledore said this in a casual manner, it seemed as though studying was not what was really on his mind. For one thing, he of all people should know that Tacitus needed no help on his Transfiguration exam. "Would you care to join me in my office?"

"Al-alright," replied Tacitus, slightly taken aback. He quickly put Magick Moste Evile back on the shelf, hoping Professor Dumbledore had not seen what it was. They walked very calmly yet quickly to Dumbledore's office, not talking the entire way. Professor Dumbledore wore a distracted smile underneath his auburn beard. Meanwhile, Tacitus attempted to bear his usual nonchalantly detached look, but couldn't help but show a bit of confusion and concern on his face.

When the two of them entered the office, Professor Dumbledore strode over to the large, clear bowl on the corner of his desk and popped a bright yellow candy from it in his mouth.

"Lemon Drop?" he offered, as he rolled the candy around in his mouth, trying to get every last drop of flavor from it. "I daresay, the Muggles do know how to make a delicious sweet."

"No thanks," Tacitus replied, politely, although, he had tried some of Dumbledore's various treats in the past and had to agree that they were quite good. "Sir, I already know everything I need to for my Transfiguration N.E.W.T., and more. I'm going to be fine without any more practice—"

"Yes, I know you will," interrupted Dumbledore. He now looked away from Tacitus and began slowly pacing the room, again appearing to be somewhat distracted. Tacitus glanced over at his desk and noticed that there were now numerous letters scattered all over it, many of which were unopened. They all had Ministry lettermarks on them, and the opened ones that he could see all mentioned Grindelwald several times each.

"Is something bothering you Professor?" said Tacitus, trying to put on a caring voice, which is something he is not used to doing. "I didn't mean to be nosy, but I noticed all the letters on your desk mentioning Grindelwald." Dumbledore stopped and turned on this last word, his light blue eyes sharply looking into Tacitus's green ones. "My family hasn't really been concerned with him too much, so I'm not quite sure what the latest news on him is. Are you going to fight him soon? Stop him for good?"

Professor Dumbledore stared at Tacitus for a few moments. It was almost as though he were looking through him. Then, he snapped out of it and waved the thought off.

"Never mind that. It's unimportant, really," he said, starting to pace again, looking elsewhere but constantly glancing back at Tacitus. "I want to ask you, whether there is anything thing you'd like to tell me, anything at all?"

Tacitus's mind raced. Between his suspicions of Riddle and his "Knights of Walpurgis" and the discussion that Slughorn and Riddle had had that he had overheard and the mysterious Horcrux that seemed to be the darkest of all magic, so much so that no book, not even one's that were specifically on Dark Magic, would even explain what one was. Tacitus knew that these were all just speculations and there was no proof that he was right. So, he couldn't tell Dumbledore anything. Not yet, at least. Thankfully, he had been born with a talent for being able to keep a straight, emotionless face through anything.

"No," said Tacitus. "There isn't anything, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore had slowly come to a stop. He continued to gaze at Tacitus, but, soon it seemed, he was gazing past him, thinking, contemplating. Tacitus took this as his time to leave and walked out of the room and back to his dormitory, leaving Dumbledore there to contemplate his thoughts alone, while Tacitus dealt with his the same way.

**Chapter 4 – Taking the Fruit**

Tacitus didn't even bother to study, Riddle kept creeping back into his mind. He was constantly pondering what Riddle was doing. The N.E. came and went, Tacitus knew he did well despite how little he studied. Before he knew it graduation morning was upon him. As the graduation ceremony was coming to a close, Tacitus couldn't keep his eyes off of Riddle. He had spent the whole morning preparing himself for the confrontation with Riddle following the commencement of graduation.

Headmaster Dippet wished everyone a great summer and all of the students started to walk back to their houses to pack up their trunks. As everyone was leaving, Tacitus followed Riddle back to the Slytherin common room. Tacitus could feel his heart progressively pound harder and harder as the moment drew closer. Up ahead, the common room entrance was visible but Riddle continued to walk right by it. Tacitus was curious where Riddle was going, so he quietly followed Riddle remaining in the shadows.

Tacitus glanced around the pillar he was hiding behind and heard Riddle whisper in a high-pitch hiss at the portrait of a snake a little ways down the hall. This sent a shiver down Tacitus's spin. The portrait opened up to a hole large enough for a person to fit through, it was slowly closing leaving him with little time to choose. Tacitus took one last deep breath and plunged through the portrait. As he emerged through the other side he saw a narrow, carpeted revolving spiral staircase that was gradually winding up. Tacitus waited for Riddle to rise out of sight then he quietly rode the stairs up for which felt like a long time. Once at the top he noticed the room appeared to be roughly the size of a potions classroom.

Tacitus started to notice other similarities as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. The room had numerous cauldrons lined up against the back wall. Only a few of the cauldrons seemed to have a fire lit underneath them. Riddle was leaning over one of the simmering cauldrons chewing on an apple and examining the contents. Tacitus couldn't see exactly what Tom was doing with the potion but it appeared that he was murmuring some spell as he stirred it. The cauldron contained a shimmering golden-colored potion. Tacitus wondered if this could be the so-called horcrux. Tacitus started walking towards Tom with his wand out, hand trembling, preparing for the worst. Tacitus thought this would be the perfect time to get Tom's attention since he was distracted. Taking a deep, calming breath Tacitus announced his presence.

"Riddle." he boomed. Tom turned so quickly he appeared to be a blur. As he spun, he threw the apple aside; which bounced into a nearby empty cauldron, and pointed his wand directly at Tacitus. Tacitus continued to speak with a little more hesitation. "Whatever you are doing with horcruxes, it's not going to happen ."

"And you are going to stop me?" Riddle said insultingly..

Tacitus raised his wand. "Stupefy!" he shouted. A red jet of light burst from his wand toward Riddle, who easily deflected it with a flick of his wand. Slightly taken aback, Tacitus tried again.

"Expluso!" Once again, Riddle cast aside the attack nonchalantly. He started snickering at Tacitus, a smirk growing on his face.

"Incarcerous!" For the third time, Riddle shook his head and barely moved his wand while deferring the attempt. Riddle was now laughing hysterically. Tacitus's eyes widened, his face starting to lose color.

"What are you trying to do here Tacitus?" said Riddle. "You don't stand a chance against a descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin.

This got Tacitus thinking; _Salazar Slytherin. Hissing at stone walls. Parseltongue! Riddle is the heir of Slytherin_!

"You're the one who killed that Muggle-born last year and framed that half-giant Hagrid!" Tacitus said. Riddle cackled at this, a maniacal look spread across his face.

"What does it matter?" he replied. "You'll never walk out of this room."

Riddle fired a curse at Tacitus and he managed to duck out of the way but the force of the spell still ruffled his hair. Tacitus gathered himself and resumed his dueling stance.

"Locomotor Table!" Tacitus yelled, sending the table that was on the far wall charging at Riddle. This temporary distraction gave Tacitus a chance, " Impedimenta" he yelled. Riddle somehow managed to block that spell with just a wave of his wand and sent the table flying back at Tacitus. Just before the table was about to hit him, Tacitus flung his wand out and transfigured the desk into a wooden mongoose.

"Oppugno" said Tacitus, and the mongoose turned on a Knut and lunged toward Riddle, who reduced it to a pile of ash with a lazy whisk of his wand.

"Impressive," said Riddle, "But that bit of skill won't change the end result."

"Stupify!" bellowed Tacitus, starting to become a little worried about what he had gotten himself into. Once again Riddle blocked the spell with minimal effort.

Both of the wizards were now circling each other with their eyes narrowed, looking to curse one another. Tacitus's back was now facing the wall of cauldrons. He quickly realized that Riddle would use this to his advantage.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Riddle said as he swished his wand at one of the other cauldrons that contained a simmering potion. The cauldron rose and started floating rapidly toward Tacitus.

"Evanesco," said Tacitus as the potion vanished within the cauldron. Riddle dropped the now empty cauldron with a loud clatter. His brow furrowed; he was starting to lose patience.

"Crucio," said Riddle in a shrill voice. Tacitus tried to jump out of the way but wasn't quick enough, and the spell hit him in the arm. For a moment there was searing pain throughout his whole body, he writhed on the floor for what felt to be an eternity. Eventually, Riddle released him and the pain ceased. Exhausted, Tacitus slowly got to his feet and raised his wand.

"Just quit now and maybe you will be spared." said Riddle in an annoyed tone.

"We both know only one of us will be walking out of here tonight." said Tacitus, breathing heavily, almost too tired to continue fighting. Almost.

Tacitus and Riddle proceeded to shoot all sorts of hexes, jinxes, and curses at each other, now only using nonverbal spells. Tacitus hurled spell after spell at Riddle, who just laugh mockingly and, with a flick of his wand, repelled every one away from him. Everything from beakers to desks to lanterns to cauldrons shattered and exploded all throughout the room. Riddle responded with numerous curses, the effects of which, Tacitus could only imagine. Flashes of every color zoomed through the air, back and forth between, the two duelers. Tacitus did his best to block and parry every curse thrown at him. He thought he was holding his own extremely well and might just have a chance to win this duel. Then, he saw something from Riddle that seemed vaguely familiar.

Riddle waved his wand in a serpentine motion and suddenly Tacitus could feel the cold, hard floor pressed against his stomach. He felt strange, lankier than usual, and tried to pick himself up but found that he could not move any of his limbs. Riddle must have used a binding curse.

Tacitus fought to break free, or at least grab his wand. During his struggles though, he realized that he had no feeling in his arms or legs at all. It was as if they had been painlessly severed, but, surely, he would have felt something.

Tacitus glanced up at Riddle who was now walking toward him with a triumphant smirk that seemed to cast aside any chance Tacitus thought he might still have of prevailing. He looked larger than Tacitus remembered. The voice Riddle spoke in next also sounded different, slightly higher and in more of a whisper.

_"You put forth a valiant effort,"_ He said curtly, his glaring eyes never wavering from Tacitus'. _"Better than anyone else at this school could have. I suspect your powerful ancestry had something to do with that. Pity. I could have used such a noble pureblood like yourself among my ranks for when I decide to take the power I deserve."_

Tacitus continued to struggle, but he knew it was hopeless. Riddle was now standing over him, his bright red eyes flaring with victory. Tacitus willed himself to get up, to grab his wand, to continue to fight. However, all he could get himself to do is slither around on the floor. When Riddle spoke again, Tacitus had a sudden, horrifying realization.

_"Oh well,"_ Riddle went on in that cool, shrill voice. _"There will be others. You shall make a fine prize. Though, what should I call you? Tacitus is not a suitable enough name for someone as powerful as I, Lord Voldemort. It shall have to be a feminine name, given your new form…How about, Nagini?"_


End file.
